Twenty Minutes
by ashestoashesanddusttodust
Summary: Cullen doesn't know who leaked the information on his date of birth, but he's going to have to figure out something appropriately for revenge when he does find out. Cullen x Anders
1. Chapter 1

**Twenty Minutes  
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**A Word**: Modern AU with strippers because why not?

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Cullen doesn't know who found out when his birthday is, but when he finds out who had decided to _share_ that information he's going to have to figure out how to pay them back. He's not sure what he'll do just yet, but he'll figure out something before the night is over. Something to really get back at his co-workers and friends deciding to celebrate by dragging him to a strip club.

The Hanged Man is not the kind of name one expects from a strip club, but it's become very clear the place isn't the average club within two minutes of stepping -or being dragged in Cullen's case- inside to realize that. It has all the markers of a cheap and trashy joint. Sticky floors, ear splitting techno beat, not enough light to really identify anything that gets passed over the bar to them.

Beyond that there's nothing else in line with the cheap image. There's a hat box for one thing. Situated right next to the door and manned by woman who'd smirked when they walked in and been far too handsy when selecting and forcing various hats and hat type things onto them. Cullen's left cheek still hurts from her pinching fingers as she gave him a headband with fluffy, orange cat ears. Both left cheeks.

The staff is overly friendly though. Too friendly to be paid minimum wage, and also far too good looking. Even the bouncer who looks ready to escort each and every single person inside out with or without their cooperation. A waitress glides through the crowded tables with ease while dancers take the prominent stage. Men and women with no pattern that Cullen's been able to figure out.

The music is loud and s physical force he can feel pounding at the base of his skull. Louder with each beer he can't refuse and each failed attempt by his friends to get him to go up to the stage.

"Could you look a little less like a virgin sacrifice?" Dorian says after readjusting his purple leather cowboy hat. The thing is too large for his head and the weight of the peacock feathers continue to drag it forward, but the man likes something about it because he hasn't tried taking it off yet. "You're tantalizing the natives, and as adorable as it is to see you flail under a deluge of flirtations this is your party. I have some investment in making sure you actually have a little fun tonight."

"And your first thought was strip club for that?" Cullen eyes the nearby tables warily and Dorian is right. All eyes aren't on him, but they do stray towards him often enough for him to know being hit on by a large number of people is a distinct possibility tonight. Evelyn says there's something about his panicked look that brings out the predator in people, and Cullen probably can't look more panicked now if he tried. "I'm beginning to think you really don't know me all that well, Dorian."

"My original plan was to take over someone's back yard. Barbeque, bonfire, pool, too many smelly dogs. But that was vetoed as too boring by everyone else," Dorian lifts his bottle in a wry toast when Cullen gives him a stricken look because that sounded like the _perfect_ party. "The beach plan was also out because of too much sand and the possibility of sunburn. The park made Sera cackle in that way she does before we all get thrown in jail. There isn't a restaurant in fifty miles that will accept all of us under one ticket, and I was told to stop projecting my own desires when I suggested we all go to the library to read quietly. This is the tamest plan out of what was left. Believe me."

Cullen does, because when his friends and co-workers really put their minds to it they can come up with some truly outrageous plans. "I'm not even going to get a cake out of this am I?"

"Well, if you tough it out and try to at least look like you're not going to bolt out the back door I might be able to look into getting you some fine cheesecake," Dorian says with the sly smile that lets Cullen know he's not talking about the kind that he can eat with a fork. "You're here now. Might as well enjoy yourself to the full extent allowable by the club."

"Please don't," Cullen says and feels the certainty that it will happen settle over him the same way his headache has. Slowly and with an inescapable force that lets him know nothing he does will stop it.

Dorian gives him a guileless smile as he melts out of the seat and turns toward the stage where the majority of their friends are crowded around the stage. Catcalling and waving money at a slim elven woman with long black hair, and more clothing than should be possible for how debauched she looks. Cullen looks away from the stage as the chair beside him scrapes out loud enough to make him wince.

"Commander," Krem says the title with the same inflection as always. Flat fact with just enough amusement to let everyone know he's well aware of how irritating Cullen finds it. He pushes one of the fours open bottles he has towards him, and Cullen accepts it. "You look ready to pop smoke."

"Not my idea of a good time, Krem," Cullen mutters even though the man already knows that. When he was enlisted Krem and Bull had tried their damndest to get Cullen to go out drinking with the guys often enough to know that. Often enough to know it hadn't been a rank difference or the fact they were still technically mercenaries that kept Cullen away.

"Ah, come on. Good drink," Krem lifts one of the other bottles for a healthy swig that Cullen knows burns. The beer is cheap and tastes even cheaper here. Krem doesn't flinch though as he waves the bottle around in a half arc. "Pretty things to look at for all tastes. There's something here you have to be able to enjoy at least a little."

"I'm going to enjoy giving this headband back and walking outside where it's quiet," Cullen answers honestly. The plastic band is tight and isn't doing much to help his growing headache. He reaches up to push it back into the one spot he knows hurts the least. Taking it off, he's found, only gets him a lapful of the pinching woman who will take her time putting it back on him. All while cheerfully telling him what she'd like to do to him in her bed for being so difficult.

"Yeah, it's not really your scene," Krem shrugs off the honesty with a slight smile. Unoffended by it, and that's the main reason why Cullen had insisted on Bull's group being brought into the newly formed Inquisition last year. They had enough former military to not need to worry about security despite the Inquisition's main focus being on uncovering and bringing to light corruption among the highest ranks in all of Thedas. No, what the Inquisition had needed was people with the kind of level headedness that Krem needs to work under Bull. "But everyone else seems to be having a good time. Haven't seen smiles like that going around enough lately."

Cullen can hear Sera's laughter ringing out. Loud and clear without the edge of desperation she had denied even as they could all see it eating at her devil may care attitude. Evelyn's laugh rings out right along with Sera's. A sound that has been all too rare since Coryphe Venatori terrorists had been solidly linked to far too many governments. Leliana and Josephine appear to be a few drinks closer to climbing up on stage for their own show, and Bull looks ready to pour the rest of those drinks himself. He'd lost sight of both Cassandra and Blackwall within the first half hour.

"Heads up," Krem tugs the half empty bottle from his hand and replaces it with a full one. He's grinning slightly as he nods behind Cullen. "They've been pooling money for something special for you all night."

Maker, no. Cullen turns and Dorian is looking far too pleased as he walks back up to the table. "Dorian no."

"Dorian yes. Get up, you're getting a lap dance," Krem's snickering into his beer as Cullen gets hauled to his feet. "We had two choices but I'm feeling greedy so you only get one."

"That's not what a choice means," the beer does not go down easy, but he's grateful for that as it helps him with the automatic flush and flinch reaction. "Who are you inflicting me on?"

"Mr. Kitty," Dorian's lips curl up with spiteful glee as Cullen winces. Hand half raised to the irritating band on his head. "Your other choice was the Leather God, but he has spikes on him and I think you're going to hurt yourself enough with Mr. Kitty. No need to actually take out one of your eyes."

"Move it, move it!" Hands shove into his lower back from behind and Cullen jumps forward more out of instinct than any force. Evelyn steers him towards a dark and not very discreet hallway that ends in a red door. "Come on, Commander, just relax and let the man do his job. You'll have fun!"

The words are prosaic and Cullen wonders how many his boss has had since they got there. Bull was supposed to be keeping an eye on her, but he'd been rather more interested in the stage now that he thinks about it. "I want you to know that my letter of resignation will be on your desk tomorrow."

"Oh, good!" Evelyn leans around to open the door for him. The room is dim and small. With couches pushed up against three of the walls, and a single padded chair somewhat in the middle. "I haven't had one in a while. I'll put them with the rest."

There's no other way out Cullen finds after pacing the room once. Which seems like a fire hazard to him. He groans and rubs at the tight muscles at the back of his neck before sitting down. The chair is padded but it's by no means comfortable, and Cullen's very grateful for that when the door swings open again only seconds after he sits.

Mr. Kitty is attractive. That's been true for all of the dancers Cullen's seen so far. He walks with an unselfconscious grace that Cullen's not sure he could manage if his only clothing were a pair of boots, some scandalously tight briefs with a fake tail, a thin collar with a bell, and -Cullen looks, yes, they're there- black cat ears sticking out prominently from his long blonde hair. The man grins at him as the door clicks shut behind him. He walks forward to stand in front of Cullen, forcing him to look up the lean lines of his mostly naked body in a way that makes him very aware there's only one door.

"Nice ears," the man purrs and Cullen wants to go back out there and strangle his friends. Long fingers run through his hair before he can think about getting up and set the irritating band to rights. "You're friends have reserved twenty minutes of my time for you back here. The Hanged Man has a no touching rule, so you just keep those hands right where they are and we'll be fine. You got any special requests, handsome?

"Show me the emergency exit?" Cullen asks hopefully.

"Sorry, I was specifically instructed not to do that," Mr. Kitty says with a laugh as he fiddles with a small rectangular box Cullen had not noticed him holding. Music begins to play from speakers in the room. Just loud enough to cover the sounds leaking in through the closed door, but not nearly loud enough to make his head start to ache again. "Blame your friends, not me."

Mr. Kitty tosses the box at one of the couches and it bounces twice before sliding off the faux leather to clatter on the ground. Cullen jumps a little at the noise and then again as Mr. Kitty pours into his lap. Knees pressing against the outside of Cullen's thighs and feet hooking around his knees. Applying pressure to spread his legs enough to give the man a steady seat to settle on.

"Um," Cullen curls his hands around the arms of his chair. There's padding all the way around it and no hard edges to dig uncomfortably into his hands.

"Relax. Having a good looking guy sitting on you is supposed to be fun," Mr. Kitty says with a wry smile that offsets the cockiness of his statement. "Hey, I'll even promise not to bite! No matter how very biteable these arms are."

The no touching rule doesn't extend to employees. Mr. Kitty is careful to keep a bit of distance between them. As much as possible considering he's in Cullen's lap, but his hands roam freely. Cullen holds still as the other man somehow manages to make feeling his biceps into something almost obscene. It's the appreciative light in his brown eyes that does it, and makes Cullen clear his throat. Shifting a little guiltily under him.

"And even if I did," Mr. Kitty says, his grin growing and losing all the wryness as he moves. A fluid move of his body that's vaguely in time with the music. It's more than a bit distracting to watch. "I'm medically trained to take proper care of it afterwards."

"Ah," the medical student. Cullen wonders more than a bit cynically how many men still buy that clichéd excuse, and knows the answer is probably every single one of them since it's still being used. It doesn't make the lap dance any easier to sit through, but the chance of awkward conversation should be distraction enough to get him through it with at least some of his dignity intact. "So you're working until your loans are paid off?"

"Oh, no," the man's cat-like grin is bright and edged with pure sin as he settles his hands against his chest and looks Cullen straight in the eyes. Cullen's stomach sinks in reaction to the promise there, but it's not dread he feels. "I don't strip for the money, I do it because it's _fun_. Keep your hands on the chair now."

Cullen's been gripping the chair arms tightly since the beginning and isn't likely to let go anytime soon. "What-?"

The man _drops_ somehow and there's no space between them at all anymore as the beat of the music becomes something more rhythmic and in line with the club outside the door. He grinds down on Cullen leaving him helpless to think of anything but the fact that he feels every bit as firm as he looks. Too firm, and Cullen's reacting to the erection pressing into his stomach. Getting harder as the man runs his hands over Cullen's shoulders with an honestly appreciative look. He _moans_ filthy and low. Dragging an answering sound involuntarily from Cullen.

"Isabella's been telling me I need to get you in a corner all night," Mr. Kitty leans forward and Cullen's pressed back and down in the chair. Unable to move or do anything but feel it as he all but fucks Cullen. His hair tickles as it brushes against Cullen's face and he swears he can taste the man from the air passing between them. "You are exactly my type."

He knows his face is red. The kind of red that his friends love to provoke out of him with the most embarrassing things they can manage. He can feel it settling in over him as Mr. Kitty sways and arches over him with the music. The room is open and chilly, but Cullen feels like he's burning up with the other man's weight over him and on him. Words and light compliments echoing in his ears as Cullen tries to remember why he has to keep his hands to himself. Why he can't reach out and guide the man to the exact pace he needs him go at.

Cullen only knows the music's stopped because Mr. Kitty stills above him, and in the sudden silence the rushing of his own blood is only drowned out by the creak of the chair under his hands. Mr. Kitty pushes himself up and away and Cullen can't help the disappointed noise that leaves him then.

"Oops," the man says far too cheerfully as he makes a production out of climbing off Cullen. With far more touching and rubbing than it had taken him to get into his lap in the first place. A completely unfair bit of teasing that Cullen has to bite down any further reaction for. "Sorry, time's up and there's rules you know? Can't break them now can we?"

Cullen swallows and tries to look away from the very obvious and very large bulge that's eyelevel for him right now. He fails rather miserably.

"And you need to stop _that_ before I change my mind and get fired," the man's voice is amused but wavers just a bit before Cullen's right arm is pulled up. Mr. Kitty's pulled a marker from somewhere. The scent is strong enough to make his eyes water but he holds still until the stripper caps it and gives him a wink. "Good thing I'm not always at work."

He has a phone number and name angled across the bend of his elbow when he looks down. The sight of Anders walking away with a sway is incentive enough for Cullen to save the number in his phone before readjusting his flagging hard on. He's already going to be facing the leers and knowing looks of his friends as it is. No need to add too much fuel to that fire.

He takes a few moments to breathe though before going for the door. And almost immediately wishes he'd not left.

"We have to go," Evelyn latches onto him the moment he's in the main bar area. The liner around one eye is smudged and her words slur slightly but she's steady as she starts pulling him towards the exit. "Dorian pissed off the Leather God somehow. We have to go before he gets killed and I have to fight Bull for the honor of _not_ planning that funeral."

There's shouting coming from the corner table that Cullen can barely hear over the music. It looks like Bull and Krem are holding two struggling figures, but he's being pulled too far away to make out which is which. He doesn't bother trying to figure it out either. He'd rather not get banned from the Hanged Man just as he's found a reason to actually like it.

"Is that a phone number?" Sera's on him the second he's outside in the parking lot. She giggles as she wrenches his arm out for all to see. 'All' being herself, Evelyn, Leliana, and Cole whom Cullen had forgotten had climbed into one of the cars with them earlier. "You dog! Who knew our Cully-Wully had it in him? You're finally starting to act like a proper soldier now!"

They laugh then because Cullen has horrible friends. Horrible friends with bad ideas that somehow turn out good in the end. Cullen waits for the rest of the group to get thrown out and wonders how soon he can get away with calling.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Twenty Minutes**

**Notes:** Why am I continuing this?

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Cullen calls the number the next day. Later than is apparently acceptable to Sera who had come into the rented building they use as an office late. Eyes bloodshot and groaning under a hangover that hadn't stopped her from dragging everyone into something that's Cullen's business. Turning what was supposed to be a fairly productive day into a round table discussion on Cullen's love life that he'd tried very hard not to listen to.

Difficult enough with the small size of the offices and nearly impossible when each of them just _had_ to chime in with their own opinions on when he should call. Cullen should count himself lucky that they got so heated up disagreeing with each other they forgot to give him hell for getting a phone number slipped to him in a strip club.

As it is, Cullen waits until he's off the clock and safely locked up in his truck to pull out his cellphone. His truck is an old, rusted thing he keeps half because it still works but mostly because it makes both Dorian and Vivienne twitch when it rattles to life. He scrolls to Anders' number and doesn't let himself think too much about it before hitting dial.

"Hello?" Anders answers just as Cullen's throwing the truck into reverse. Unhurried like he wasn't expecting a call. He sounds alert and slightly cautious. Not asleep or near it, and probably wondering who's calling him from an unknown number. There's a faint noise in the background that's rhythmic and might be talking or music. Cullen automatically notes the small details out of habit and let's them go as soon as he notes them.

"Hi," Cullen gets out the greeting easy enough and then stalls. The downside of calling so soon is he has no idea of what he should say. A benefit according to some of his coworkers. "Uh, this is Anders?"

"Are you asking if _I'm_ Anders or if you are?" Amusement makes Anders' voice rich and Cullen smiles despite wanting hit himself. "Because, yes, I am Anders and I'm pretty sure you're the hot birthday boy from last night. Whose name I didn't actually manage to get though Merrill's pretty sure it's Commander."

"Cullen actually," he laughs as he pulls out onto the street, pressing the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he cranks hard on the wheel to turn. He's going to have to take a personal day soon to fix the steering before he throws a shoulder out driving.

"Really? Well, that's a little disappointing," Anders cheerfully admits. "Not that Cullen's not a perfectly good name, but you have to admit that Commander has some intriguing possibilities."

"I," Cullen laughs again. Helplessly charmed by the cheekiness of the man. He can picture the smirk to go along with the conversation. "I don't even want to ask what you were thinking do I?"

"Well, no, a demonstration would be much better. Say sometime later today maybe? Or now works too. I won't say no to now," Anders is a hopeless optimist, Cullen decides.

The proposition is cheerful and said with an air that makes it clear he won't be overly put out if Cullen says no. And Cullen doesn't want to say no. He really doesn't, but he's got a faint headache lurking behind his eyes threatening to grow worse if he doesn't do something to head it off now.

"I just got off of work. All I'm thinking about doing right now is eating," Cullen explains with no small amount of regret. He can feel the faint heat starting in the apples of his cheek that is the main reason he hadn't even considered touching his phone until he was in his truck heading away from any kind of audience. He gets enough flack for how his fair skin shows everything as it is, and he tries his hardest not to give them more ammo to use against him.

"Oh, food," Anders says with the kind of wistful sigh that Cullen recognizes as someone who skipped lunch. Maybe breakfast too. He's heard it far too often working lately to mistake it. "Yeah, I can see that as being more important really."

"Did you want something in particular?" Cullen asks. A sudden decision that hits him as he sees the sign to several fast food joints coming up. "I mean, I'm getting something to go. I could get you something and drop it off?"

Where, Cullen has no idea but he doesn't really want to end the day with just a phone call to Anders.

"Really?" Anders is surprised. Delightfully so going by the upswing in his voice. "That would be great! I'm at work. Well, it's not really work because I don't get paid for this. All volunteer really, and lunch tends to wave vaguely at me as it flies right by. You know where the clinic on Darktown is?"

"Yes," Cullen answers after a surprised moment. Sera and Evelyn both make it a point to extend what can be spared to the rather notorious clinic set up on the worst part of town. A free clinic that won't turn anyone away, and actually appears to be doing more good than not.

A suspicious reputation that is rightfully earned. Leliana works hard with Josephine to keep that reputation down to vague rumors. Mages are controversial no matter what they choose to do. Doubly so these days with the disbanding of the Circles and the fall of the Templar organization. A messy clusterfuck that Cullen is still leading inquests on three years later.

"You volunteer there?" Cullen asks cautiously even as he steers into the least crowded looking parking lot.

"Yes," Anders doesn't sound put out at all, but the fact that he doesn't follow that one word up with anything else is clear. He's waiting for Cullen's response.

"Alright," Cullen looks at the sign of the place he's stopped at before turning the truck off. Anders is probably a mage. A healer going by what little Cullen knows. Volunteering his skills as a mage and apparently working as a stripper for money. Not the best of lives, but also not the worst that Cullen's seen. "Well looks like you have a choice of burgers and fries. Anything you want on yours?"

"No mustard," Anders answers immediately. If he's relieved, Cullen can't tell from his voice. "I'll take anything else but that, and if you're buying fries you might as well get extra. I work with a bunch of food thieves, and they won't be safe unless there's enough for everyone."

"That, I can do," Cullen says with a smile, because he knows a lot about how stick fingers can get around a pile of fries. "I'll see you in twenty minutes."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Twenty Minutes**

**Notes:** Blargh, this was supposed to be a fun little stripper AU. Why did it need serious background stuff?

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Cullen grew up knowing exactly what he wanted to do with his life.

He'd wanted to join the military. He'd wanted to join the Templars in particular. Growing up Cullen had heard the tales of Wilhelm. The apostate who had left the Circle and was never taken back due to some deal he had with the government. No one had been able to agree on what exactly that deal was, but everyone had agreed that it'd been bad luck the mage settled in Honleath.

Wilhelm had not been a bad man, but neither was he a good man. He'd not been above throwing magic around to make a point or intimidate his way into better deals. Wilhelm could have easily been a bad man if he hadn't been so engrossed in his research. Research that was dangerous and carried out in the middle of the town where anyone could have been hurt by it. That Wilhelm had been the one to be killed by his work really was only a matter of luck.

It had never sat well with Cullen, and he'd looked to the Templars early. Because if there was anyone who could have protected the town from what had killed Wilhelm it was them.

Cullen's drive to protect people had led him easily enough to the military. Joining the Templars had been a whole other matter though. A matter he had been happy to tackle, and it surprised no one who knew him when he was accepted. The training had been rigorous. Above and beyond anything Cullen had gone through up to that point. Which fit with their mission.

Templars were expected to both protect those born as mages, and to protect the world from the mages who chose to use their gifts in evil ways. To deal with the demons and spirits that are always attracted to the power of the mages. Whether the mage wanted it or not.

He'd been so proud. So happy and filled with the conviction he was doing good when he was sent to Kinloch Hold. Cullen knows now, can see it with the distance of too many years, that even then things had not been as good as he liked to think.

Mages have always been a point of contention through history. They're far from the days of burning anyone displaying even a hint of magic, but not every country is as comfortable as Tevinter is with magic. Not enough to allow mages to go about unchecked.

The Circle colleges were an answer that many countries turned to. Places set up to train mages at the first sign of their gift. Places of sanctuary meant to teach them to do good, and to keep them from the harmful hands of those who still thought a stake was the best end for a mage. They were meant to save and protect, and maybe they even had done that once upon a time. A time that had passed decades before Cullen was even born.

Kinloch had been perhaps one of the best left in the world. Under Greagoir's command the abuse of mages had not been wide spread. Which doesn't mean it never happened. It just meant that those who had done it had made an actual effort to keep things a secret. The signs were there of course, but Cullen had not been ready to acknowledge it then.

A cowardly way of admitting he had turned his head exactly when he shouldn't have, and kept his mouth shut when he should have opened it. Anywhere else, Cullen knows he would have been ignored or silenced at worse, but not in Kinloch. Greagoir would have listened. He was perhaps one of the few Commanders who would have taken allegations of abuse seriously. Especially when brought to him by another Templar.

It is one of many regrets Cullen has, but not among the worst of them. Kirkwall and the Gallows will always hold that position. Followed closely by the lyrium shots Cullen had taken as just another fact of his position. The drugs that had given all Templars the abilities that made them so effective around mages. A necessary procedure that Cullen had not bothered looking into beyond the fact that people higher in rank than him said it was safe.

_Safe._

The vague headache lingering even as he downs a cup of coffee to combat it is almost an expected constant now. The faint tremble in his hands at the end of the day, the ache deep in his bones that comes and goes with no warning, and the craving so intense that it locks his jaw and draws his body into one tight aching ball of need. They're not life threatening, but they are not exactly what Cullen would contribute with a _safe_ drug. Nothing with withdrawal symptoms can truly be good.

"Order 75. I have 75!"

Cullen tosses the empty cup away and steps up to accept the two bags from the teen behind the counter. Walking away quickly as the press of others waiting for their orders fills in the gap he leaves.

He wonders which Circle Anders was in, or if the man was lucky enough to not be sent to one. Unlikely, even though Cullen now knows there was a pretty extensive network of mages working to free people from the Circles and train mage children away from it. Not a perfect solution, but it was a move of desperation as lawmakers refused to change decades of thinking.

The explosion of violence, when it came, had been a long time in coming. Cullen had known that even as he watched the Gallows rise up against Meredith. The rumored vote of the other Circles for independence had been six months old before they'd managed to get through her iron fisted lockdown.

Inquiries had been coming in left and right from all directions as she grew paranoid. She'd cut off all lines of communication. First for just the Gallows, and then the whole city. Corruption and the new version of lyrium Meredith had been secretly testing had ensured the violence nearly destroyed the whole city.

Evelyn runs most of the business dealing with mages for the Inquisition. Mostly relocation and protection missions. Cullen's only involved when a Templar's abilities -lessened as they are in him- are needed. Usually when she stumbles on any of the many illegal ex-Templar militias that keep springing up despite the efforts the Inquisition has gone through to get the ex-military soldiers the help they need to transition. The help they need to get off the dangerous cocktail of drugs many of them are still taking.

He could probably call her up and get a few answers about Anders before going to meet him again, but Cullen doesn't touch his phone as he climbs back into his truck. Tucking the bags away so they won't fall and spill as he drives. A new thread of nervousness curls through him as he reverses and turns for where he knows the clinic is. It's an added layer of history to a situation he was already a little nervous over, but that would be true no matter who he was contemplating seeing.

If nothing else, he probably won't have to explain so much about the twists and turns of it. Something Cullen's had to do far too often for people who only saw a system that had worked fall and burn. It is, he acknowledges with a wry smile, a rather poor silver lining to focus on.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Twenty Minutes  
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**A Word**: I'm making a mess of events here, but they don't all fit in a modern au really. Probably all of it shouldn't fit at all.

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The clinic doesn't have a name. It's just the clinic and there's no sign distinguishing it from the row of buildings along the street. Anyone who needs help though already know what is there and what it is. The wait room is filled with a variety of people when Cullen walks in. People who look like they need the free help and people who look like they can afford their own personal doctor.

"Hi, I'm Cullen. I'm supposed to bring something for Anders," Cullen says to a hard faced woman behind a counter that neatly sections the room off from a few hallways that lead deeper inside.

He probably should have called when he parked, because the woman gives him a very shrewd look. She's a short and stocky woman who looks more than capable of dealing with any trouble that might come by without having to do more than _look_ at it. He's left with the distinct impression that she's not terribly impressed by him even as she flips open a section of the counter to allow him back. "First hallway. He's back there somewhere, and if you can make his stop long enough to eat I'll pay you to come back every day."

"I," the counter slams back down almost before he can clear it. Deliberately almost catching him going by the faint traces of amusement he can see in the woman's eyes. Cullen blows out a sigh and smiles faintly. "Thank you."

The hall Cullen goes down is lined with examination rooms. Many of them occupied though he doesn't linger to see why they might be here. Some are being sen by people. Two women dressed in scrubs and looking like they're professional nurses, and one man who doesn't look like any sort of nurse or doctor Cullen's seen but his hand glows tellingly. None of them are Anders.

There's a small room at the end that looks like it might be a breakroom, but it's empty as well. Cullen steps in it and reaches for the phone in his back pocket. He's not going to wander the whole building looking for Anders. The food will grow even colder than it already is if he tries that.

He types out a few words for a text when he's interrupted by a badly stifled giggle. A childish giggle that brings Cullen's head up quickly. There's a lump of blankets on a worn looking couch in the corner that he'd dismissed perhaps too quickly. He can see the wet gleam of eyes from under a fold and Cullen purses his lips to hide a grin as he drops the bags on a table and wanders over to the couch. Making a show of studying his phone as he finishes the text and sends it before dropping heavily enough onto the couch to make the child jump and shriek a little.

"Whoops," Cullen exclaims as he lets one hand hover enough to stop her -there's two braided pigtails sticking out of the blankets now- from falling off the couch. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't notice anyone was already here. I just thought you were a big old pile of blankets."

The blankets shift and a dark skinned child sits up from the mess. A stuffed bear is clutched in her arms as she laughs up at him. "I'm not a blanket, Ser Knight."

It takes Cullen a long moment to place the child before him despite the name and -now that he's looking- familiar toy. Slave trafficking is one of those unspoken evils that the Inquisition runs into. More and more often the further they press into Tevinter. Unsanctioned missions to hunt down Venatori threats and rumors of Corypheus.

The country's official stance on slavery is well known, as is their casual disregard of it. Evelyn makes it a point to disrupt as many slavery rings as possible whenever she can as a matter of course.

Cullen had been along for the particular mission that had found a tiny, malnourished girl chained up in a windowless room. The slavers had actually been linked to the Venatori in the end, but they'd kept the girl's existence quiet until they were well over Tevinter's border. What the Venatori wanted with a mage child was something they still haven't been able to figure out, but none of them had wanted to deal with the chance of Tevinter's government taking custody of the girl.

"Hello Kelby," Cullen doesn't try stopping the smile as he leans down so that he's looking right into the girl's dark eyes. "How are you doing?"

They're bright and smiling at him, and she looks far healthier than she did the last time he saw her. She's gained enough body mass back that she looks like the healthy little girl she is. The foster family Evelyn found for her is doing good work. Extra good work if they're volunteering here as well.

Kelby climbs easily into his lap. Wedging herself under his arm in a position that he found himself in often leaving Tevinter with the girl. Evelyn and Dorian had been busy arranging things to slip out quietly, and Sera -as childish as she could be- was not really a child friendly person. Cullen had often found himself with the duty of caring for the girl. An easy if heartbreaking task he'd gladly taken.

"Good," Kelby thrusts up the bear, made out of red-brown felt, so that he can see the bright yellow ribbon tied around its neck. Its silky looking and coming loose. "We have the same ribbon."

It takes Cullen a bit to catch on that she means the bear and her. The pigtails she has are tied off with matching yellow ribbon that's better attached than the one on the bear.

"Dorian would like that," Cullen says as he reaches out and tugs on one of the braids. Lightly. Dorian had been the one to come back with the bear tucked under his arm. Evelyn had been the one to find ribbons to keep Kelby entertained. Somehow it had worked, and Cullen had spent a good deal of time helping the girl tie and retie different colored bows around the bear. "Yellow is his favorite color."

It's not, but the fact makes the girl light up even brighter than she already is. Sera had been far too delighted in the child's very obvious crush on Dorian, and Cullen still has to hear about the teasing of that even now. When there isn't anything better to be brought up for teasing purposes at least.

"Kelby," the name is snapped just enough to make them both jump and Cullen looks up to see the woman from the front. Wearing a light jacket and holding a large purse that looks heavy enough to be fatal. A relevant fact as there's a lot more suspicion in her face now than there was before. "It's time to go home."

"Yes, Miss Lirene," Kelby sings before turning back to Cullen. "Tell everyone I said hi?"

"Of course," Cullen swings her down to the floor and doesn't miss the slight easing of suspicion on Lirene's face. "Dorian and Evelyn will be glad to hear it."

Kelby scampers over to the woman and Lirene's giving him a whole other kind of look when he stands up. Assessing on a different level than she had done before. It doesn't stop her from wrapping Kelby up in a light green jacket or fussing over her hair ribbons for a moment. She looks vaguely pleased when she stands and turns away. "This one is good. You need to keep him."

Cullen frowns slightly in confusion that clears up when Kelby speaks up. "Bye, Anders!"

"Ok," Anders' voice precedes him as Lirene bustles Kelby away. He peaks around the corner with a bemused smile. His eyes are lighter than Cullen remembers and filled with laughter. "I don't know what you did, but the mother dragon approves of you. And let me tell you, that's not an easy thing to do at all."

Anders is wearing scrubs, and his hair is tied up in a ponytail that doesn't quite manage to hold all the strands back. He looks like a frazzled nurse ready to end a long night shift, but there's a few suspicious stains on his clothing that Cullen knows is blood. He also has the pinched look around his eyes that mages get when they're low on mana. The slight charge in the air -unnoticeable to most but never a Templar- also gives him away.

"Ah, well, that's probably all Kelby's doing," Cullen hadn't noticed the steady thrum of nervousness leaving him until its back. There's no trace at all of Mr. Kitty in the man standing before him now, but Cullen still has to swallow and tear his eyes away before he does something that probably shouldn't be done in public. He goes for the bags on the table to keep his hands busy. "It's been a few months since we brought her back. It's good seeing she's doing good."

"Since you-" Anders walks in to the other side of the table. Brushing past Cullen because the room is on the small side. His eyes are narrowed in thought that clears up into honest surprise. "You're with the Inquisition?"

"Yes," Cullen rips the bag holding the fries open carefully. They've spilled out all over and it's easier to let the bag unfold to act as a plate than to try and bring them out one by one. "You didn't know that?"

Evelyn is the face of the Inquisition, and he knows she's been to the clinic before. Surely Anders would have seen her the other night at the club and put the two together. It's not like any of them are really inconspicuous.

"Commander!" Anders exclaims suddenly. One fist smacking down on the table and the other pointing almost comically straight into Cullen's face. "They called you- _You're_ the leader of the Inquisition's army?!"

"Uh, it's not an army, we're a peacekeeping force," it is an army actually. A very large army, but Josephine has spent so much time beating the line into everyone's head that it's automatic now. Something about the governments of the Thedas being unreasonably upset over having bits of a standing army stationed in compounds around their territories, but being perfectly fine with it if they didn't actually call it an army.

A fine distinction that Cullen doesn't really get, but there's a reason he's not called on to deal with politics.

"Cullen. Commander. _Rutherford_," Anders says, and then repeats himself. Again and again with emphasis on different syllables. He is, Cullen realizes, having a bit of a break down.

It doesn't happen often, but Cullen has experience with this as well. He grimaces and reaches back to rub at a tight muscle on his neck. The action makes Anders stutter to a stop and now he's just gaping wordlessly.

"Yes, Cullen Rutherford of the Inquisition," Cullen offers and gives a slight smile as well to hide any disappointment. He reaches for his wrapped burger and takes a step back. Already mentally back tracking and preparing for the let down he's heard once too often. "If you're not comfortable with that I can leave."

"What? No!" Anders snaps out and he's fast. Unbelievably fast as he catches Cullen's arm before he can get a second step away. "Is that a thing? Do people actually do that? What is _wrong_ with them?"

Anders looks so indignant that Cullen can't help but chuckle. He eases back up to the table and unwraps the burger. It doesn't look all that appealing now. It's been smashed and cooled enough that eating it is going to be a mess. He's rather too hungry to care though, and Anders seems to be willing to associate himself with Cullen.

"I can't say I've been in a position to see if it's common," that would be Dorian and Evelyn whose relationship woes can only be called epic at times, "but it has been known to happen. The Inquisition isn't exactly your average volunteer organization."

"It isn't your average anything," Anders rolls his eyes and quickly stuffs a small handful of fries in his mouth. He grimaces at it and Cullen knows why when he reaches for some himself. They're almost ice cold. At least the burgers have some lingering heat in them. "But that's not what I was making a fool of myself over."

"Oh, I wouldn't call that making a fool of yourself," There's a microwave in the corner, but Cullen doesn't think it'll do any good by now. Someone can take them home and put them in an oven though. He wipes the salt and grease off on his pants and looks curiously at Anders. "What did get you worked up though?"

"The fact that _you_ are Rutherford," Anders shakes his head mournfully and stubbornly reaches for more fries. "If you looked even close to what you look like now back when you were stationed in Kinloch I would have climbed you like a tree years ago."

"You were at Kinloch?" Cullen asks, stupefied enough that he barely feels his stomach sink at the implications. He was there for nearly five years, and he could swear he never knew Anders. Except he did. Memory is faint and brings up ludicrous stories but no face. "Anders. I only _heard_ your name before."

"Aw," Anders pouts. Exaggerated and it takes several years off his face. Making it something that Cullen wants to say he can remember, but he really can't. "Well, can't really blame you, because _I_ saw _you_ and didn't make the connection until now. Time has been very kind to you Cullen."

No, it hasn't but Cullen takes the compliment as it was meant. "Maybe, but tell me, how did Kinloch's most notorious flight risk end up working at a free clinic?"

"Don't you want to know how I became a stripper instead?" Anders asks and bats his eyes coyly. A ridiculous move in his rumbled scrubs, but makes Cullen smile again and lean on the table to get a little closer anyway. "That's a much more interesting story really. Trust me."

"Whichever you'd prefer," Cullen folds easily. They've gone through enough heavy revelations for one day, and if the story of Anders working at the clinic is anything like Cullen's joining the Inquisition...

Well, it'll come out eventually, and there's no reason to rush it all out while leaning over a cold meal of a take out. They've only officially known each other for two days after all, and things like that should be spread out a bit more.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Twenty Minutes  
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**A Word**: Chapter is edited to fit with site guidelines. Check out my author profile for a link to an unedited version.

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It takes a week for Cullen to learn that Anders lives at the clinic. He lives there because he owns it and the cost of keeping it going precludes him actually being able to afford anything else to live in.

"We're not really officially a hospital. We don't prescribe drugs or doing anything really invasive," Anders eyes cut away quickly enough for Cullen to know that last one is a lie. "I think we're officially classified as an alternative health center really because most of what we do involves herbal remedies. They work, don't get me wrong, but they're not really considered real medicine."

Cullen knows the reason those herbal remedies work so well has to do with magic. Mages have a knack for making even sugar water react better than it should. Anders stops at the top of the steep steps that lead up to the second floor of the building and fishes out a set of keys. There's three locks on the door, and Cullen's fairly sure he sees the glow of deactivating wards.

"So technically I can live here too, but we try to not advertise that too much," Anders grins back over his shoulder as he walks through and holds the door for Cullen. "Not like the people in power need anymore ammo to try and shut us down here. They usually do a decent enough job finding somewhat legitimate reasons on their own."

The second floor looks similar to the first floor. All halls with rooms. A quick glance shows that the ones closest to the stairs are set up like the examination rooms. Then there's rooms that are obviously storage rooms as he follows Anders. A few have shelves of books, and Cullen's sure he sees one that's set up like a lab before Anders brings him to a hall that has a curtain strung across it.

"Home sweet home," Anders brushes through it without drawing the curtains back. The rooms beyond that have mostly all had the doors removed. There's one room filled with bunk beds, another room that looks like an actual kitchen, and next to it is a much better looking break room that Anders turns into. "It might not look like much but it's really a lot better than some places I've stayed at. If you can believe that."

"It's not bad," Cullen can believe it. Solas brings back stories of the mages he consults with often. The conditions they live in -despite the help Evelyn insists on giving them as consultants- are not encouraging. He doesn't even want to think about the conditions he's found some ex-Templars in either. Neither side had come out well when the Circles fell. "You have running water. That puts it up above a few places I've stayed at."

Even for the Templars the Gallows had been little more than a shit hole. Meredith had spent most of the allotted upkeep funds on maintaining the exterior. Cullen hadn't even known the workers that had worked so diligently on the historic statues and docks were being paid with money meant to fix the rusting pipes, and upgrade the ventilation systems. She'd told him they were being paid by Kirkwall to maintain the city's image. He's still not sure why she was so focused on the exterior image of the Gallows.

"Shit holes build character, or so a few of my friends like to say," Anders circles a couch and walks to a chair before stopping and turning back to the chair. He stops there and rakes a hand over his head. Fingers catching on the fly away strands of hair that have escaped the tie. "Why are we trying to compare shit holes though? That has to be one of the most depressing topics possible."

"We could talk about religion," Cullen quips as he sits down on one end of the couch. It's worn and beaten to the point where the cushions instantly mold around him. Extremely comfortable unlike the specter of the topics they've edged around.

"Or other things," Anders' smile is darkly wry as he acknowledges there are a load of other things more depressing. "I'm a big fan of avoiding depressing things though, so how about we just talk about the weather?"

"It's not hot, it's humid," Cullen repeats the sentiment that's nearly gotten Solas killed by their overheated workers more than once the last day or two.

Anders laughs and reaches back up to pull the tie out of his hair. The dark blonde strands fall around his face imperfectly. Crimped and stringy from a whole day being held up but Cullen's fingers itch to run through it anyway. A reaction that does not go unnoticed going by the way Anders' smile turns sly.

"I'm a fan of not talking too," he purrs and Cullen finds himself with a lap of pliant and delightfully heated Anders. It's jarring, a little, when Anders turns on like this. Though Cullen's only seen this happen once in the past week. A pleasant experience that had left them both with bruised lips and not enough time left on Anders lunch hour to deal with the consequences of it. His movements -normally jittery with too much energy and enthusiasm- smooth out and become graceful. Every gesture seems like it should be set to music. Loud and thumping in time with Cullen's pulse. "If that's what you'd prefer."

"I won't say no," the room isn't dark, and the music is absent but Cullen's brought back to their first meeting anyway. They're not in a strip club though, and there's no arms on the couch for him to grip tight enough to stop himself from touching. "Do I get to touch you this time?"

"I'll be very, very disappointed if you don't," Anders hooks his feet between Cullen's legs. Awkwardly with sneakers and not boots, but Cullen lets his legs fall open obligingly enough. The scrubs hide a disappointing amount as Anders does something with his spine that would probably be stunning without them on. "This would probably be easier with fewer clothing though."

"Yeah," Cullen agrees before doing what he wanted to do and winding the fingers of one hand in Anders hair. Pulling just enough to reach his lips.

Anders sighs into his mouth and Cullen doesn't really need to see the way his body moves any more. Not when the kiss pulls Anders in tight enough for Cullen to feel every move, every shiver. Sharp teeth nip at his lips before Anders pulls back with a small laugh and a crack of his spine that Cullen can almost feel.

"You know what? I think I've spent more than enough time leaning over people today," Anders pulls his top off with a single move before tipping sideways. Landing on his back with his legs still over Cullen. His eyes are dark when he pushes hair away from his face, looking far too inviting. "How about you ruin your back for a bit and give me a break?"

Cullen can do that. Easily.

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[[Story redacted to fit rating policy. See profile for link to unedited story.]]

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There's laughter rumbling in his ear when Cullen stops shaking and his breathing eases. Calloused fingers rub soothingly down his back, sending slight tingles through him when they catch on spots that make him hiss. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" The tingle barely goes past his skin. Healing what Cullen's sure were a few minor scratches. Gone now, and Cullen only feels the ghost of them. A feeling not as unfamiliar as it once was before Dorian had broken Solas down enough to teach him and Evelyn the basics of it. Using anyone who happened to be around as guinea pigs.

"Waste your energy," Cullen places a lingering kiss on the junction of Anders' neck and shoulder before pushing up on his arms to look down. "Maybe I wanted to keep those scratches."

"Oh, wow, don't say thing like that," Anders whines. He doesn't let go of Cullen as he grimaces and wriggles a little on the couch. "My dick is too tired for that. And, um, I didn't realize I was healing you. Sorry."

"It's fine," Cullen isn't fond of spells being cast around him unexpectedly, but healing spells are alright. He's gotten used to those being thrown his way every once in a while at least. He sits up despite the grasping fingers of Anders trying to keep him still. "You do have a shower here, right?"

"Yes, oh that is a good idea," Anders stops trying to pull him back down and twists out from under him like an eel. Cullen's entranced for a moment by the muscles he can see working in the man's back before Anders holds a hand out to him. Wiggling the fingers as he grins. "I do in fact have several showers here, but the best one is up here. You will not believe the water pressure it has."

"Right," Cullen says sceptically as he takes Anders hand and is hauled up to his feet with surprising ease. The mess in his pants makes itself more prominently known and Cullen really doesn't care what the pressure is like as long as he can rinse that off himself. "Let me guess, it's also big enough for two."

"Probably not," Anders winks and pulls Cullen along. "But it'll be fun trying."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Twenty Minutes  
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**Notes:** Ibid

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"So, you _are_ dating, yes? Not just having a little fun on the side," Dorian sometimes approaches conversations in a roundabout matter. Coming in at a looping angle. Hinting at it before going right for the matter he wants to discuss.

It's not quite the double talk that frustrates Cullen so much with the officials they usually deal with, but only because he's used to it from him by now. Cullen looks up from his paperwork to see what move Dorian's made on the chess board set precariously between Cullen's desk and the arm of the padded chair Dorian wheels around when he doesn't want to be cooped up in one room.

"We are," Cullen says cautiously because he might be used to it but he also knows to be wary when Dorian uses it.

"It doesn't bother you?" Dorian asks. Eyes bright with an almost voyeuristic curiosity. The same kind of interest he gets when talk inevitably turns to gossip.

"What?" Cullen asks even though he has an inkling of where the other man is going with the question. Stalling, because he doesn't want to have this conversation right now. Maybe not ever really.

"That your boyfriend is a stripper," Dorian snorts and gives him a sharp look in warning for trying to play stupid. Few things can get him angry faster than that. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's a respectable enough job that I truly appreciate, but you've always seemed like the kind of man who would be possessive in a relationship to me."

"You've thought about me being in a relationship before?" Cullen asks with a frown, and doesn't like the picture perfect smile he gets from Dorian in response. He clears his throat and nudges a pawn in place before burying his nose back in his reports. "No, Dorian, it doesn't bother me. We met because you all paid him to give me a lap dance."

"You're welcome," Dorian solemnly accepts and hovers one hand over the board. Cullen looks up and stares pointedly at the other hand, kept down low, that's been trying to subtly move a different piece. He drops that hand without comment and continues to study the board. Unconcerned he was caught trying to cheat. Again. "But it truly doesn't bother you? The thought of someone else getting a lap dance from your handsome dancer?"

"No," Cullen says firmly, but the words have already entered his head. He thinks about Anders sitting in some other man's lap, running his hands over someone else, and purring compliments the whole while. It's not a pleasant thought and his guts twist at it. A seed of jealousy planted, and Cullen drops his reports to glare at Dorian. "Dammit, Dorian."

"Don't blame me, it would have come up eventually," Dorian says though he has the grace to look a little guilty. "It's a fact. You're dating a stripper, Cullen. Might as well figure out if you can deal with it now than later. I've seen a few too many relationships end messily from similar set ups, and your dancer seems decent enough not to deserve that."

"Anders," Cullen scowls but leans back and sighs. Knowing that Dorian's taking the chance to blatantly cheat as he rubs hard at his eyes but not caring. "His name is Anders."

"Well, good for him," Dorian gives him a look that's as sympathetic as he ever gets when Cullen opens his eyes. He makes a move with a knight that Cullen knows would've been impossible in the position it was in before. "Do both of yourselves a favor and figure this out. Sooner rather than later."

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Which is easier said than done.

Anders is a stripper. Yes, he likes to say he does it because it's fun, but the fact of the matter is that the clinic doesn't bring in any money. Everything donated goes right into upgrades and supplies to keep it running. There's nothing left to pay the people who work there. They truly are volunteers in all senses of the word.

He might save a lot by living there, but a place to live isn't enough for a person. Cullen has caught Lirene casually leaving food behind where Anders will see it and eat it, but she fosters children on top of volunteering and running her own business and that food doesn't come along all that often. Even the clothes Anders has are old and have holes in them.

"Oh, I don't need much," Anders had once commented with a grin that wasn't entirely sarcastic. "As long as I don't get arrested for public indecency the clothes I have are fine. No sense getting anything really fancy because someone will eventually puke or bleed on it. Though, I guess it'd be nice to have a few shiny things to wear."

He does have jewelry. A few gold earrings, and some intricate bangles that can distract Cullen like nothing else when he wears them. All bought with the money he makes at the Hanged Man. The money he hadn't spent on food, a few books, or donated right back to the clinic that is.

It's enough for Anders to survive on. Enough to even live on if he stopped donating to his own clinic, but with his current set up it's not bad at all. Cullen knows that will change if Anders dropped his night job though. Which makes him feel guilty on top of the slow simmering jealousy he's been feeling since his conversation with Dorian.

"You're smiling," Cassandra notes as they trade reports from the Wastes. A miserable area claimed in name only by Orlais. They're delighted for once that the Inquisition is sticking its nose into the area. Josephine seems to think they might gain something worth having by continuing to push there. Cullen thinks the Inquisition may be well on its way to gaining ownership of a wasteland.

"I just read seventy pages on the mating habits of desert lizards, and am about to share that _joy_ with another sane person," Cullen grins a little at the face Cassandra pulls as she sifts through the reports to find the thick sheaf he's talking about. "Can't I derive some small joy over that? I never claimed to be all that good of a man."

"No, you've always claimed the exact opposite. Maker knows why when that's clearly not true," Cassandra settles back on her heels and her eyes -lined with a soft red kohl today, Josephine must have cornered her earlier- are sharp and assessing. They miss absolutely nothing and Cullen feels vaguely unsettled as always to have them turned on him. The first time he'd met the Internal Affairs Officer he'd spilled every single thing to her without pause because of that gaze. "You're smiling more lately though. You seem," Cassandra tilts her head consideringly before nodding, "happy. Content mostly, but very happy."

Cullen flinches a little under the words, because they're true. He has felt lighter these past few weeks, and he's not too dense to know why. It stings to hear it from Cassandra though. The reminder that he really shouldn't feel as happy as he does. Cullen has no cause to. Not with the things he's done. "My apologies if I've offended anyone."

"I did not say it was a _bad_ thing," she says after a pause where Cullen's sure she's running the whole conversation through her head again. Looking for the point where the conversation she was having diverged from the conversation he was having. An odd habit that Cullen has been grateful for on many occasions when heated heads would have completely derailed things. "I'm glad to see it. You deserve to be happy Cullen. I didn't mean it any other way."

"I, no, I'm sorry," Cullen mentally stops himself for a check. He's felt fine all day. He woke up far too early as usual but the dreams that had pulled him up had been vague, and he'd mostly stayed up out of sheer habit than anything else. Nothing really horrible has passed his desk all day. Even the carefully coded complaints from Captain Rylen about the state of the water supplies for his men had been more amusing than anything else. "I guess today has been more tiring than I thought."

There is nothing, nothing at all that explains the fact that Cullen is on edge. That he's standing on an edge that can turn this fairly unremarkable day into a trial. His mind taking everything said to him in the worst possible way even though he _knows_ it was not meant that way. Even though he knows he's being utterly ridiculous.

"Cullen," Cassandra sighs and Cullen knows it's not disappointment, but he still thinks it is. "You should go to the doctor. There is no shame in seeking help when you need it."

Cullen knows that. He's received this speech in all its variations since Kirkwall. The words have become all but meaningless really from the repetition. Cullen just doesn't see the point in it. It's not depression, or whatever it is they all think when they give him those pitying looks and lower their voices like the volume of their words might break him. He doesn't ever contemplate killing himself and he's getting frankly tired of that question being asked every few weeks.

"I'm fine," Cullen says with a smile he hopes looks more natural than it feels. It's not a lie. He is fine. Perfectly fine. He's got no reason to not be, and the few things that are wrong with him are things he's brought on himself with the naive stupidity of his youth. "Just a little tired. I'll leave early today and be fine."

Cassandra's lips purse but she drops the matter with one last parting comment before heading to her own office, "It is nice to see you smile more. That's all I was saying."

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Cullen doesn't smile for the rest of the day, and he only knows that because it gets pointed out to him multiple times. Enough that he's irritated and snapping at everyone by the time he's kicked out of the building two hours earlier than he's ever left before. Bull's large hand on his shoulder just impersonal enough not to make him try to shrug it off.

"Get laid," the qunari advises him with a shrug that's perfectly calculated to look far less caring than Cullen knows the man can be. "Or drunk. Both would be better."

"I'm fine," Cullen growls as he walks on to his truck. Bull lets him go without further comment and Cullen's left alone with his foul mood as he slams the door shut.

He doesn't leave right away though, and when he looks Bull is gone. Cullen leans his head down on the wheel and just breathes for a bit. He's irritated, angry, and just feels like shit all over. He wants to go home and do nothing for the rest of the day. He _should_ go home and gather himself back together. Get his mind screwed back into place. Maybe take a nap or three.

He should do that, but it's not at all what he _wants_ to do. It's a bad idea, Cullen knows that even as he turns on the truck and heads to thi clinic.

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End file.
